Darkness has consumed the light
by Batty28
Summary: Sometimes, when the insanity gets to you, its only logical to go insane. A group of one shots, contains OCs.
1. Chapter 1

Apple a day.

* * *

Miles sat quietly leaning against a locker, his eyes closed and his breathing returning to normal as he glanced at the door.

He'd slammed it shut, before he'd a pushed a mental cage filled with what looks like gas canisters across, to stop any of the intruders on the outside from getting in and attacking him and the curious little girl he'd found in the asylum.

He casted his gaze over to the six year old who was sitting crosslegged on the floor, playing with the battered teddy bear, a smile on her face like all of this was completely normal, which in some ways for her he guessed it was. She was born and raised in the asylum, but how she'd survived…? She was so young and he doubted any of the people in here would spare her, maybe a few wouldn't hurt her, but the others? They couldn't tell the difference between person and food some of them.

"Trebel?" he croaked out and the girl looked up, tilting her heard to the side in question.

"Miles?"

"How… how have you survived here?"

She blinked at him before shrugging slightly. "I just know the rules and I have protectors."

"Protectors?"

"The twins, Father Martin, Junk, Puppet, Shakespear, Musician, Chris too! He knows I'm not a threat and I can't be a host to Wally, he protects me too."

"Wally?"

"Walrider," she grinned at him, before brushing off some dirt from her teddy. "I was friends with Billy, so Wally won't hurt me." She looked to the side slightly a highly thoughtful look on her face. "Eddie is nice too, wants me to be a bridesmaid."

"Bridesmaid?"

"He wants to get married and have a family all of his own," Trebel explained before she smiled and her eyes brightened. "He's made a church too and he makes really pretty dresses, but Musician told me off when I said I'd been there. She told me not to go down there again, Eddie is dangerous apparently."

"Wait- she?" Miles blinked. As far as he was aware there were no female patients here. "There's a woman here?"

"Yeah, Musician," Trebel explained. "She used to work in the arts and crafts bit… but the bad people didn't like that she found out their secrets and was going to tattle tale on them, so they locked her up in here. They made her go through the pain too, the hurt bit. She takes care of me now and lives in the Female Ward, no one really bothers her, us. Those that do… they are… hurt before they hurt us."

"She kills them then?" Miles sighed and closed his eyes. "And as for that Eddie guy, I don't know how he's going to get a wife. All of the other patients are men."

"He makes them."

His eyes snapped open.

Surly he hand't heard her right? He turned his head to look at the girl who was still playing with her scraggy teddy, hardly noticing Miles's look of disgust and terror. "What?" he whispered.

Her eyes looked up through her hair and she studied him for a moment before looking back at her bear. "Eddie makes his brides. He cuts away all the… vulgar..?" she looked up questioning herself before smiling and nodding. "Yeah, that's right! He cuts away all the vulgar parts."

Miles swallowed uneasily. "What… what are the vulgar parts."

Trebel didn't say anything she just pointed with her finger at Miles and he found himself curling his knees up to his chest, a disturbed look on his face.

"I don't want to know."

"The Doctor is bad too."

"Doctor?"

Trebel nodded. "He's bad. He hurts everyone."

"Are you talking about Wenwhick?"

Trebel shook her head. "No. Worse."

Worse? Worse?! What the hell? Who the hell could be worse then the man who made this damn place?! That… it seemed impossible.

"Well… I'll steer clear of him…"

Trebel got to her feet and walked up to him, stuffing her hand in her pocket. Miles found himself raising an eyebrow at her in curiosity.

Slowly the girl pulled out an apple from her pocket and handed it to him.

He looked confused for a moment, glancing his eyes up at her to see her staring back at him.

"Umm… thanks?"

Trebel smiled before explaining. "An apple a day keeps the Doctor away," she explained, clapping her hands together.

Ah.

Miles smiled at her for a moment before handing her the apple back. "Thanks but… I think you'll need this more then me," he smiled before standing up and walking over to the door. "I'll stick to running for my life, it seems to be working for me." he muttered as he pushed the cage aside and opened the door, peering out into the darkness.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," Trebel sing songed before she bolted out the door and into the dark.

Miles blinked before he scrambled after her, using the night vision on his camera. "Trebel! Hey wait!"

He ran into the light and pulled the camera away from his face looking around the corridor, a frown on his face. She was nowhere to be seen.

"Damn that kids fast," he muttered to himself as he caught his breath.

The sound of voices made his ears perk up before he looked around in confusion, before the colour drained from his face.

They were coming for him.

He took one last glance around for Trebel before making a run for it as he saw the first guy come running around the corner.

He didn't see her for a long time, but he did see the Doctor.

Trager. Doctor Richard Trager, but he was not a Doctor, not even a poor excuse of one, he was just a psychopath, taking two of Miles's fingers to prove it.

He'd somehow managed to escape, he'd been running away from that psycho for a good few hours before finally ending him in the elevator, crushing him.

Miles had then trudged on through the horror, till he found himself outside, standing in the cool rain as it battered down from above. It was nice and soothing in many ways, but it still stung his hands a little bit, as he walked on through. Then he found her.

Trebel was sitting on the grass in the rain, making what looked like her attempt at daisy chains. She sat in the only bit of light source in a small shed, keeping most of her dry but she was clearly soaked but she didn't seem to care.

At the sound of his footsteps she looked up, she knew it was him, always knew it was him, simply because he was the only person who wore any damn shoes in this place.

He stared at her for a while as she equally stared at his hands, tilting her head to the side as she looked before she looked back at him.

She put her hand back in her pocket and tossed the apple at him, of which he caught, staring at it himself before he looked back at her.

She shrugged before going back to her daisy chains. "I told you so," she whispered but he heard her.

A glare fell on his face and he dropped the apple to the floor, before he stormed past her and grabbed a key from the hook. "Yeah," he agreed, turning on his heel and storming away from her. "Yeah you did."

THE END.

* * *

 **Note: Okay so this is my first time writing outlast, I really love the game and the story is one of the best I've seen. I'm also a huge fan of the characters. I have created some of my own characters to put in this, they will be explained as the one shots go on, especially Trebel and Musician, who will be explained in later stories.  
I hope you guys like this :D**


	2. Chapter 2

Normal is just a dream.

* * *

Miles breathed heavily against a wall as he caught his breath.

Chris Walker. If there was one thing Miles could say about the man he was damn persistent, stalking him all the way through the asylum, never letting up, never stopping, always there. It was terrifying, all he could ever do was run and hope he wouldn't get caught.

He used to pray, but Miles gave up on that a long time after entering the asylum. No god in their right mind would touch this place, they'd just push it away into a corner and ignore it. He couldn't blame them, he wished he could do the same.

He was in the female ward, or at least whatever was left of it. It was falling apart, most of it was at least and all around him it was nothing but hell, one big living hell.

As he wandered the down hall he began to hear music playing, piano it sounded like.

Musician, a voice whispered into his head. Oh great.

He wished Trebel was here, she would at least be able to… maybe deter Musician from killing him, but now? And as if to top it all off he had to walk past her too.

Slowly, he crept up to the door and gently pushed it open, to see a piano with candles surrounding it, all lit and a woman was sat at the head of the piano, playing with ease.

She paused for a moment and looked directly at him.

Miles felt his heart stop, the look she gave was cold and harsh, but it sound softened when she seemed to realise who he was.

She turned back to the piano and began to play, softer this time, a smirk pulling across her face. "I was not expecting a visit from Father Martin's apostle," she laughed slightly. "I feel like I should act humble in your presence."

Miles didn't say anything, he simply continued to watch her as her fingers stroked the keys and eased them into a beautiful, if not haunting tune.

"Not much of a talker," she commented before a twisted look fell across her face. "Which means… you're one hell of a screamer, am I right?" she glanced back at him before looking down at his hands. "A little visit with the mad doctor yes? Trager?"

Miles shuddered at the name before he began to walk around the room, looking for batteries and documents, always keeping Musician in his sight.

"I haven't heard any more screams coming from his part of the asylum," she commented before stopping in her playing and folding her hands in her lap. "I take it that's your doing. Bumped old Rick off huh?"

He froze before turning towards her and she smiled, her right eye leaking blood for a moment, which she quickly wiped away. "I'm not complaining. I never liked the man, not even when we were…" she lifted her hands up and did quotation marks. " 'Buddys'."

He went back to searching, but he span around at the sound of the floor boards creaking, only to be greeted face to face with Musician who seemed to be studying him.

"Scared aren't you?" she chuckled. "You have nothing to fear from me Apostle, I am not interested in going on a killing spree, quite frankly I wish to be left alone with my music, but these lunatics won't allow such privilege. It really is quite upsetting. You on the other hand… intrigue me," she slowly rose a hand to his face and let one of her long nails scrape across his face, causing Miles to hiss and back away from her. "Ah, he does make a sound, I thought you a mute."

He narrowed his eyes. "Lady, if you knew me, you wouldn't be calling me a mute. And get the fuck away from me!"

"Now he speaks." she leaned in close again, not seeming to care about personal space. "Word of advice… don't try talking to the loonies in here, they'll send you crazy with he mumbo jumbo they spit out."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that the moment their words begin to make sense to you… is the moment to worry."

Miles frowned. Recently he'd found that the crazies words were starting to make sense to him. A lot more sense then he was willing to admit.

"They've already started to make sense haven't they?"

"Not that it's any business of yours! What are you even supposed to be, a reject from the gender bend phantom of the opera!?"

Musician laughed, she leaned her head back and laughed loudly. "You're a riot," she smirked. "And do not worry, I suppose you must of been already slightly tapped, why else would the Walrider choose you."

"Don't tell me you buy into that bullshit too?" Miles rolled his eyes. "And I am sane. Why would you question otherwise?"

"Well… I'm not the one who willingly broke into an insane asylum," Musician's eyes sparkled with enjoyment. "That was you."

"I didn't break in-."

"Don't lie to me," she snarled. "I hate it when people lie. Murkoff lied, the Doctors lied, my ex-husband lied!" she suddenly took a step towards Miles and glared. "My only regret is I didn't get to slit that little whore's throat when I had the chance, but piano wire is much more my style. Though it would've been funny to paint that witch's portrait with her own blood and give it to my husband as a going away present," an insane look took to her features and Miles back peddled slightly, before his back hit the wall and Musician smirked walking up to her cornered prey. "And I know you broke in because this building was on lock down. Only way in would be to break in."

Miles swallowed uneasily as she continued to be studying him, judging him. He guessed that she struggled when people lied, considering her history then he wouldn't be surprised.

"Alright so I broke in!" he yelled, gripping his camera tightly. "But I wish to god I hadn't! This place…" Miles put his hands to his face and slid down the wall. "This place is hell… living fucking hell…!" he sobbed into his hands as it all came crashing down on him.

"What's your name?"

"What?"

Musician knelt down in front of him and gently lifted his head up to face her. "You're name, my musical note… what's your name?"

He swallowed before nodding slightly. "Miles… Miles Upshur."

At his name she laughed brightly before shaking her head.

"What?" he snapped out, but he had a feeling he already knew.

"You're name… Miles Upshur…?" she tilted her head to the side, a smile still on her face. "Like the saying… 'miles upshore-'"

" 'Without a paddle', yeah I know," he folded his arms across his chest. "I've heard it before."

She looked around the room they were in. "You certainly lived up to your name."

He sniffed before getting to his feet and rubbed away the tears from his eyes. "Suck it up Upshur," he mumbled before he pushed past her heading towards the door.

"Miles…?"

He paused and looked behind at her, she was still standing in the same place, before she was walking away towards her piano. "I know… you trust Father Martin-."

"I don't trust-."

"Yes you do," she looked back at him. "As much as he's got you running around here and saving you at certain moments… he's making you ready."

Miles frowned. "Ready for what?"

Musician was about to speak when the door suddenly opened and in stepped the twins, machetes in hand swinging them lazily.

Musician quickly stood in the way of them and Miles, drawing out a hidden knife from a home made garter.

Miles was frozen, his eyes darting between Musician and the door.

"Miles, get out of here!"

"But what about-?"

"Damn it Miles, you don't know me get out!"

He backed up. She didn't seem that insane, she could still be saved.

"Musician."

"The Apostle."

"You spoke his name."

"Yeah," she bit out. "Damn it Miles!" she turned her slightly and glared at him. "GET!"

He backed up and quickly turned tail and ran out the room, she could hear his footsteps retreating down the hall.

She looked back at them, but they had moved.

She blinked in confusion before she felt a beefy arm wrap around her neck choking her.

Musician forgot how quick they could be, she lifted her arm up to stab him, but another arm grabbed it and stopped it from moving.

"Ugh, get your filthy hands off me!"

"You almost told the apostle the plan."

"That is unacceptable."

"She must be punished."

"But how?"

"We could kill her?"

"A suitable death."

"Of course."

"Enough!"

Musician blinked before looking ahead was Junk, an inmate she had befriended before she became an inmate herself stood at the door.

He was badly messed up now and he had only recently been giving the nick name Junk in this evening or day or however long this madness had lasted.

"Let her go," he growled out, dragging his club foot, but that was not to make him appear weak, oh no, he was anything but weak. He'd survived Trager and escaped, one of the few and then he's survived a run in with Walker, the two had fought and Junk had come out on top. He had a reputation and everyone knew it.

"It is the man of many parts."

"Junk."

"And recycle."

"Why should we let her go?"

"An interesting and good question, brother."

As if to answer them, he grabbed a table and threw it against the wall, watching as it smashed into a million pieces. He turned and gave them a look.

"We could take him."

"It would be difficult."

"Hard."

Musician made a face of disgust. "Please refrain from saying that while you're pressed up against me like this."

"I've had enough of this…" Junk rolled his eyes before charging and slamming into the first brother, the second letting go of Musician and spinning around to attack Junk and save his brother, she booked it away from the scene, hiding away from them as she heard the cries and yells of the fight.

It took a while but Junk found her again, he was pretty beaten up, with cuts and scrapes but he was alive.

He shook his head at her. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you insist on getting in a fight with those two?" he sighed and ran a hand down whatever was left of his face. "Weren't you a Doctor here once, don't you want to care for your patients?"

"Of course I did, but that was before I became a patient and those two…" she shuddered slightly. "Those two always creeped the hell out of me."

Junk sighed and sat down in front of her. "Why did you talk to him?"

She glanced up and raised an eyebrow.

"The Apostle? Why did you talk to him?"

Musician sighed and leaned her head back. "Martin's leading him into a trap. He's taken the whole 'witness' thing to a whole new level. You remember the recording. Only someone who had 'witnessed' enough horror and was in a close proximity to death and madness could activate the engine and become the host for the walrider. This place," she gestured around them. "Is a Walrider host breeding ground. He's going to ruin that young man's life. It's not fair… Murkoff has ruined so much, destroyed so many lives it shouldn't be aloud to destroy the life of the one person who could actually make a difference," she got to her feet, gripping her elbows with her arms as she folded them across her chest, staring into the darkness. "Murkoff's taken so much from us, should it really take away our hope too? Our hope of justice, that's what Miles could give us, but if he becomes the host… I don't know. He's too much of a good person, he wouldn't leave here and the story would never get out."

"I hear him, ya know?"

She turned to look at him, Junk was wearing a solemn look on his face as he turned away.

"I hear the walrider. It want's the Apostle as it's host… said that he was almost ready as soon as he entered the building. He was perfect. How I don't know but… surly that must mean he's like us? He's insane?"

She was silent before barking out a laugh and shaking her head. "I'm not the one who willingly broke into an insane asylum…" she whispered with a smile.

"What?"

She shook her head. "Doesn't matter," she smiled. "Where's Trebel?"

"Last I saw her she said she was going to help the Whistleblower get away from Eddie."

"I told her not to go down there!" Musician snarled. "That… man… he's not even a person anymore he's just a monster! He's too unpredictable."

"Would you like me to go down and get her? I was heading that way anyway, Puppet got tangled up in his strings again, or at least that's what Shakespear told me."

"Yes please do… I don't want her anywhere near that monster. Even if it is to help Waylon, he's a grown man, he'll be fine."

Junk nodded before slowly walking down the halls towards the exit and the lower floors, somewhere above there was a shout and a cry. Sounded like Miles.

Musician sighed and shook her head. "He's going to get himself killed one of these times. He's too rash."

She walked through the halls and finally came face to face with Miles, who screamed and backed up until he realised who it was.

"What on earth is wrong with you?" she looked him up and down before looking at his hands. "And where is your camera?"

"I dropped it."

She sighed. "How many floors?"

"All three of them."

Her eyes widened. "You'll be lucky if it's still in one fucking piece," she commented before side stepping and pointing down the corridor. "Head to the bathroom, there is a collapsed floor, you can get down that way."

He nodded and quickly walked past her, keeping towards the light that either the vandals gave off or the few remaining lights.

She sighed and looked up at the ceiling. It was almost the end. The night was almost over. No doubt Murkoff would send more men to deal with this mess come the early hours of the morning. To kill them all and save the ones they think they could do more with. If that was the case, what would become of the reporter?

"He'll get out…" she muttered to herself. "You know he'll get out. He survived Chris and Trager… both people Murkoff tactical died to, so Miles will be fine. He'll get out."

She fell silent for a moment.

"And now I'm talking to myself…" she shook her head and began to walk the halls again. "Great," she muttered under her breath as she passed some patients. "Because that's a normal thing to do."

Musician paused and looked back at the patients, who themselves were muttering, rocking back and forth, some even tearing at the tumurs on their arms and hands and face. It was normal here for things like that to happen. But she supposed here, in Mount Massive, normal was just a dream.

THE END.


	3. Chapter 3

The Witness.

* * *

She stood and watched the whole ordeal. Treble Clef had been following Father Martin out of curiosity, hiding when he pulled out a big needle and began to prepare it.

She'd had many ordeals with needles and knew for a fine fact they were bad and hurt a lot and the stuff the Doctors used to put into her was not very nice.

As she followed him through the halls he came to a stop outside the control room, before he slightly came in and crept up on the man Treble and Musician had found only a few minuets ago unconscious.

As he grabbed the man harshly from behind, she watched and wondered what on earth the priest was doing.

Treble noted how the mans's eyes widened in fear and dread as the needle was held in his view and then brought down into his neck.

Once the substance had been delivered into his blood, Father Martin let go of him and the man collapsed onto the desk, gripping the side and the camera he held like it was life line.

Treble continued to watch from the shadows.

"I'm sorry, my son," Father Martin whispered as he held the needle out in front of him. "I did not want to do this to you, but you can't leave. Not yet," he whispered highlighting his point by placing his hand on top of the other mans, who brushed him away and fell to the floor, staring up at him.

Eyes glazing over as he stared.

Father Martin crouched down and took his head in his hands. "There is so much you need to witness," he said in his hushed tone, before he lifted the man up slightly and turned his head to face the screen showing the last few surviving Murkof Tactical entering the underground labs. "Can you see it?" the Priest questioned. "Can you?"

Suddenly on the screen the men began to fly around the place and be torn apart or dragged placed with blood dripping from them, by an unseen attacker. "Our lord the Walrider, tearing his truth into the unbelievers," the image fell dead and Priest turned the man back to face him. "The only way out of this place is the truth. Except the gospel and all doors will open before you," with that said the man finally fell unconscious as Father Martin slowly and carefully hoisted him up over his shoulder.

The camera dropped to the floor and the Father stared at it for a while.

"Treble, my child, do you think you could carry that for me?"

Treble blinked in surprise before she scuttled out of the shadows and picked up the device before she followed after the Father.

"Who is he, Father?" Treble questioned as she studied the unconscious man as they wondered the halls of the Asylum, heading towards the cell block it seemed.

"He is the Witness, the Apostle. He has a higher calling. The Walrider, our lord, has plans for him."

Treble still didn't understand, but being only six years old, it was very hard to understand the complicated things.

As they entered the cell block inmates watched them, the patients seemed intrigued by the new comer as Father Martin took him to his cell and lay him down, turning to Treble and holding his hand out for the camera.

She gave it to him and he gently placed it next to the man before he shooed her out of the room and closed the door.

Suddenly the Twins came over to them and Treble smiled and waved at them, to which they returned with their own wave.

"We just met a very strange inmate."

"In the court yard."

"We do not believe he was an inmate."

"Highly unlikely. He looked nervous."

"I wanted to kill him."

"As did I."

"I thought it would of been fun."

"Slow though. We must always kill slow."

"Such patience."

"It is important."

"Who do you believe him to be?" questioned the Father.

"He has asked us a question."

"It would be impolight to not answer him."

"Yes very rude."

"We believe he was the man who had betrayed Murkof."

"The Whistleblower."

"That is why we did not kill him."

"Now I want to kill him even more."

"As do I."

They both turned and peered through the window at the man with the camera.

"I would very much like to kill him."

"As would I."

"He looks weak."

"Like he wouldn't struggle."

"An easy kill."

"Mildly boring though."

"We could give him a running start."

"There's an idea."

"And when we kill him?"

"We will kill him slow."

"You will do no such thing!" Father Martin shouted. "He is the Witness, the Walrider decreed it and we will not go against our lord will we?"

"Of course not."

"That would also be impolite."

"And rude to the Walrider."

"As well as rude to Father Martin."

"You are correct Brother."

They turned and where about to leave when they stopped and turned back to Father Martin. "Gluskin has taken the arts and crafts centre."

"The Male Ward belongs to Trager."

"Trager? That monster."

Treble shivered at the mere mention of the 'Doctor's' name. He had only been there for a few hours and he already had a name for himself.

He also had a name for himself before he was committed.

"Musician is in the Female Ward."

"Walker petrols the halls."

"I do not like him."

"Nor do I."

Treble shifted slightly before she looked back at the door and smiled.

The new comer seemed intriguing. Maybe she should follow him?

Father Martin bid the brothers not to kill the Apostle and he soon left, later the twins walked off and Treble sat on the floor staring up at the door, listening to the insane mutterings from the other patients.

She should probably leave and find Musician. Yes she should do that.

Quickly the girl got to her feet and scampered off, leaving the Witness to wake up for a long trip in hell.

THE END?


	4. Chapter 4

Company Policy

* * *

"Trager! Hey!"

Trager stopped and smirked before turning to the young Art therapist. "Em, buddy!" he cracked a grin. "Would it kill ya to call me Rick every once in a while. 'Trager', sounds so unfriendly."

She narrowed her eyes. "Chris Walker." she snarled at him

Rick's eyes flashed with recognition and realisation and he chuckled. Of course that's what she'd be worried about.

"Yeah, what about him?"

"Why is he not in my therapy sessions? He was doing well and now I hear he's been removed from my program. Why?"

"Company business," Rick answered as he continued to walk the halls, clip board in his hands as he went through the finances and records, briefly calculating the numbers in his head.

Emily stared after him for a moment before she caught up. "What do you mean, 'Company business'? He's my patient I have a right to know."

"How's that estranged husband of yours, Em? He still sticking his tool into anything that moves?"

He could practically hear her teeth gritting against each other as she thought back to hold her comments.

"Chris Walker. Trager, what happened to him!?"

Trager shrugged as they continued their walk. "What can I tell ya Em? Fish gotta swim, birds gotta fly, psycho's gotta go bye, bye," he said waving his fingers with the hand that was holding his pen.

"What the hell does that mean?"

"He's been moved to a different program, buddy. Murkoff didn't think your type of therapy was working for him."

Emily blinked. "Bullshit" she cried out. "My therapy was working, I was getting through to him. He wasn't as violent, he was calming down and talking to me. Talking about what he wanted to do once he was better."

"Well, the higher ups didn't think it was working so they moved him."

"He said he wanted to have a farm… where he could look after pigs, he likes them… they're his favourite animal…" she trailed off.

"Well ain't that sweet? A psycho with goals."

"Do not make fun of my patients," she snapped. "Murkoff keep moving my patients out of their therapy sessions! Eddie Gluskin, Chris Walker, Billy Hope. As soon as they start making progress Murkoff pull them out!" she was silent for a moment. "It's almost like they don't want them to get better…"

"Hmm."

She glanced up at the man as he still continued to look through his notes. "Where are they?"

"Sorry buddy," Rick said, in a voice that clearly sounded like he was not sorry at all. "That's a pretty big need to know area and I'm afraid," he tsked, his voice in mock sympathy. "You're not a high enough clearance level," he pressed his lips together before placing a hand on her shoulder, crouching slightly so he could be her hight. Emily almost flinched from the touch and went to move, but his grip tightened forcing her to stay where she was. "Just know they are in very safe hands," he said, his lips wanting to twist up into a smile, which he eventually gave into and walked away from her.

"I hate that guy," Emily muttered as she wandered through the halls. She dodged personal, searching for the room where they kept all the private documents. She found it in the end, sneaking in, unseen.

She began to read through the files, she couldn't believe some of the stuff she was seeing. What in gods name was project 'WALRIDER' she'd never heard of that before.

"Buddy?"

Emily screamed and dropped the files turning to see Trager standing in the door way, Jeremy Blair was standing just in front of him. He held a look of mock disappointment on his face.

"Emily, Emily?" he shook his head. "This is such a same."

She didn't remember what happened next, it was all a blur. She was dragged out by security, pulled along into an evaluator and it went down, deeper to anywhere she'd been. What was this?

She glanced around the white walls, they were so white, so bright. A frown fell across her face. Soon she was struggling and screaming. This wasn't right what was going on.

"Shut her up," Blair snapped.

"Come on, Jer. Don't you like it when they scream."

"She's drawing too much attention. Shut her up!"

"Rick!" she yelled at the man. She wouldn't consider him a friend but he was someone who she sorta got along with here even if she hated him, but he liked her, he'd said it himself. He liked her because she snapped back and always came out with something he wasn't expecting.

"Help me, you fucking asshole!"

Rick looked at her and shrugged. "Sorry buddy, it's company policy."

She saw a fist coming towards her face and then things went dark.

And that's how she ended up here. She didn't know how long she'd been here, in the dark, in a cell, treated like a patient, like a monster.

The experiments. They hurt… they hurt so much. She didn't know how long she'd been here, been treated like this. In the dark, time, days, months, they didn't matter, only thing that mattered was getting out, but she'd never had a chance.

Emily blinked and rubbed at the marks on her face, before her eyes looked up to the entrance to her cell as a figure she recognised was shoved into her cell.

He landed harshly, quickly standing up and slamming his hands against the bars.

"You can't put me in here, ya hear me!?" Rick screamed as he slammed his hands against the bars, blood dripping down his head where his hair had once been. "Do you hear me!"

"They hear you."

Rick actually yelped and span around, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of the once arts therapist as she slowly got up. The motion almost robotic as she walked into the light, the sound of her bare feet pattering against the ground.

"They hear you," she repeated, tilting her head slightly, a crazed look to her eyes. "They just don't care."

Rick swallowed. "Em… buddy," he gave her a nervous smile. "Long time no see kiddo."

"I know, 'buddy'," Emily spat out as she grabbed his shoulders and slammed him against the bars. The impact was enough to knock Rick of his feet and he slid down the bars, staring up at her with wide eyes as she stared back at him, a grin sliding across her face. The hormone therapy had obviously been working for her. "Long time no see, I almost missed your sorry ass."

"Now Em… buddy…" Rick held up a finger as he stared up at her. "It ain't my fault you ended up here… I…"

"Oh I know," Emily grinned. "But someone's gotta pay, Ricky."

"Ricky?"

"Trager sounds so unfriendly," she replied, quoting him from the day of her incarceration. "And since we're buddies," she grabbed him and hoisted him up, holding him against the bars. "I figured I could call you whatever the hell I liked."

"Now… Emily-."

"My name's not Emily!" she hissed, leaning in close to his face, her crazed eyes sparkling with something Rick had only ever seen in his own whenever he thought of something incredibly twisted. This piece of information did not bode well for him. "That name sounds… so boring,.. so normal… so human," she looked down at herself. "I am not human anymore. My name is Musician," she grinned at him. "I am the conductor of human life itself, I am the one who conducts a person's life span," she grabbed at his arm and smiled. "But I do love to hear peoples beautiful singing voices… their screams."

She suddenly yanked his arm back and Rick felt a snap and he screamed.

"Yes that's it," Emily laughed. "But not nearly enough, I know!" suddenly he felt her finger near his left eye.

Oh god. She wasn't? No she couldn't!

"Since you were always so blind to people's feelings, how about I make it so everyone knows this?"

He screamed.

It was an odd feeling to have someone's finger nails dig into your eye, press against the soft flesh, before wiggling around.

He pushed her away and gripped the bars, reaching a hand up to his now empty eye socket.

Emily was laughing on the floor.

"What in gods name happened to you!?" he yelled before looking down at her. "Fucking crazy bitch!"

"Oh, what's the matter Ricky?" she hissed as she got to her feet. "Don't like it when a lady can keep up with you insane tango and even beat you at it?"

"You were never like this, you were never this fucking psycho!" Rick growled out. "What happened to happy upbeat Emily? Huh? What happened to my buddy?"

"We were never 'buddies', Rick," she spat out his name like garbage. "I got put in that damn machine of yours! The static… it's my head," she raised a finger to her temple and pressed against it. "It's like a song you can't stop humming, it's full of pain and suffering, it's rather beautiful in it's own twisted way. But I guess I should be thankful," she grinned at him. "I now know what happened to my patients and… I now know what's going to happen to you."

He felt his eyes widen. No they couldn't do that, not him! He wasn't going to be put in there, no he couldn't be!

Emily must of understood, must of seen it in his eyes because she began to laugh, she was almost in hysterics.

"Oh come on, Ricky?" she laughed as she brushed her hair off her face. "I mean what else were you expecting?, I mean after all…" she grinned, her eyes shining with insanity and it made Rick pale slightly. "It's company policy."

THE END.


	5. Chapter 5

Former Employees.

* * *

She wasn't surprised to see him. In fact, Musician or Emily Blake as she had once been, had been expecting to see him in this mess, but that didn't mean she was happy about it.

Rick Trager smiled from behind his rotten surgical mask.

"Emily! Is that you buddy? Long time no see ya crazy bitch, that ex husband still fucking everything that moves or did ya cut off his tool or something?"

Nope. Not happy to see him at all.

"Trager," she bit out with a glare. "Still as un-filted as ever I see."

Träger waved her off. "Ah you know me, Em! I just speak my mind, I hear it's good for the soul! Gets them spiritual energies flowing!"

"You do not have a soul."

"Ouch. Words hurt," he looked hurt for a moment, but it was merely a mockery of the emotion in truth as he grinned again. "But I hear cheating husbands hurt worse."

"Are you aiming to get your balls cut off?" she growled out before taking a step forwards. "Because I'd happily drop you off at Gluskin's little workshop down stairs if that's the case."

"Aww… and hear I thought you would be doing the deed ya-self!" He grinned at her before leaning in close, hardly caring for her personal space. "Would be lying if I said I wasn't hoping it would be you. Ya not a bad piece ta look at, if ya catch my drift," he wiggled his eyesbrows at her suggestively and Musician stepepd back in repulsion, a look of disgust on her face.

"Oh good god no. I wouldn't touch you to gut you," she looked down at the apron. "And I wouldn't touch that part of you with a fucking barge pole."

Trager tutted and shook his head. "Always such harsh words for a lady," he suddenly leaned away from her and looked up and down the corridor they were standing in. "Speaking of ladies, ya seen Jer around at all?"

"Who?"

"Jer! Ya know, my old pal, my old buddy!" he made a swinging motion with his arms like he was swinging a golf club. "Used ta hit the green with him."

"Oh. You mean Blair?"

"Yeah! Jer! That double crossing, two timing, double dealing, back stabbing son of a bitch!"

"If I'd of seen him he'd be dead by now."

"OH-HO!" Träger laughed. "So not afraid to touch Jer huh?"

"With a barge pole? Yes. And I would throw said pole down with him so I wouldn't get his jerk-itus."

Rick laughed at that before folding his arms across his chest. "Jer's a bit more then just Jerk, Em and we both know that."

"True, I just don't want Trebel hearing me cuss. I swear her language gets worse and worse each time I see her, especially after spending time with the Apostle."

At that, Rick actually frowned. It looked odd on his face, if Musician was being honest, but if she was also being honest it was nice not to see that damn cocky grin on his face for once.

"Huh. That idiot priest sure does know how to spread a nice little line of bullshit for all the other idiots to buy into. Hey, maybe that apostle should stop by my clinic and I can show him who god really is."

Musician shivered. "I would not like to be there. That is, of course, if he ever reaches here, I've heard chatter that Walker has been stalking him."

"My my my, Chris Walker is around too?!" Rick's grin slid back onto his face. "Wow, we're all coming out of the morphogenic woodwork tonight huh?"

"Speaking of… what the hell happened to you? And why do you look like you've had your skin stripped away and for the love of god man, what have people in this place have against pants?!"

Rick shrugged. "I dunno… Being naked is kinda religious experience, very freeing. As for how I look, I guess I got morphed huh?"

"And the fact you have no nipples?"

"I cut them off," Rick said as if this was a perfectly normal thing to do.

Musician blinked. "This would be where you explain that, Trager."

"Well you remember that thing about the Walrider drinking the blood of guys out of their nipples, and I didn't fancy that so I cut them off."

She blinked again, before shaking her head and walking past him. "You're insane."

"Oh come on, Em, buddy you say that like you're the picture of sanity? Buddy, you… you strangled guys with piano wire, normal girls are out there buying shows or getting their nails done. By the way I do give good manicures. Ask one of my patients, I removed his nails with pliers," he skidded in front of her. "I'd be happy to give you one, the first hand is free, ex-employee discount, but the other hand would cost you… like I don't know… maybe an arm or leg… or an eye… I'll let you pick."

"As tempting as that sounds, I'm going to decline."

"Spoil sport," he muttered before cheerfully calling out to her. "But you know where I am if you change your mind."

Emily gave him a look before looking at his own nails. "Maybe you should think about sorting your own out before you try to sort out anyone else," she looked up at his face. "And what the hell are you wearing on your eye? You look like you're trying to cosplay at a steampunk convention."

"Hey hey, don't dis the merchandise! Besides do you know who you look like?"

She raised an eyebrow.

Rick dramatically flung his arm up around his face. "The phantom of the opera is here!"

She rolled her eyes and turned on her heel, determined to get away from this psycho. God she never liked Trager, he was insane, goddamn psycho, but other then that he was so damn irritating. Honestly, she never knew one person could be annoying 24/7, Rick proved to her that they very well could be.

"Hey Em!"

She stopped and gave him a glare, daring him.

Rick never knew when to shut up, either that or he didn't care and she leaned more towards the latter.

He grinned at her. "You better watch your back darlin' or else old Gluskin'll get a bride before he knows it, curtesy of me," he narrowed his eyes at her chuckling. "Of course… he'll have to wait… hope he doesn't mind having sloppy seconds… ya get me?" he then lifted his hand to his eye like he was wiping away a tear. "Oh.." he cried in a mock of sadness. "I always cry at weddings."

She stared at him.

Now would be a good time to leave, he was unpredictable when he was sane, god knows what he would be like now.

She began to walk away.

"Hear comes the bride… all dressed in white…" Rick sang.

She froze.

He chuckled before turning on his heel. "Later Em, it was nice catching up with ya!" he began to walk away whistling 'here comes the bride' before disappearing into the kitchen.

He'd heard quite the commotion from downstairs, seemed like the little runts had chased something under ground.

Rick walked up to the dumb waiter and carefully placed his finger over the button so he could speak down the speaker.

"Who's down there? You're not one of them, are you? Quick! Get in the dumbwaiter if you wanna live!"

He should of taken up acting classes, he would of aced it!

He waited, leaning his arm up against the side for the tray to bring up whoever it was that was unfortunate enough to actually listen.

He was greeted by the sight of a young man in his twenties wearing a brown leather jacket, holding a camera and looking absolutely scared out of his mind and that terror only heightened at the sight of Rick himself.

Rick grinned.

"You made the right choice there, buddy."

THE END.

* * *

 **Yeah, so a lot of updating this with a lot of stories, I will be posting more as I go :)**


	6. Chapter 6

Then you can be just like us.

* * *

Miles groaned as he came to, he opened his eyes, the world was bleary to him. He blinked a few times and it cleared and he was able to see he was in one of the many rooms of the female ward.

He stared, his glancing around the room as he tried to get up, only then noticing that he was tied up, well he was strapped down in a chair by restraints.

Oh god… not this again.

Miles began to struggle, but these were strapped down a lot tighter then what Trager had done. Obviously this person was not taking any chances with him.

"Ah, my musical note has awakened."

He blinked, turning to see her, Musician walking into the room, dragging someone behind her, this person looked very dead.

"Oh don't mind me," she waved him away as she dumped the corpse in the corner. "This idiot tried to take my area. I can't have that, it's the only place with a piano."

Miles stared, his breathing was becoming erratic. This made no sense. She was safe, she was okay, he was certain of it.

Musician paused and looked up at him and smirked. "What? Did you think I didn't kill people?" she laughed, "Damn it Upshur, I thought the fact that no one was around my area told you that much," she slowly walked over to him. "Now, I'm not going to kill you. I'm actually warning you."

Miles swallowed slightly before shifting in his restraints. "Warning me of what?"

"Father Martin," she gave him a hard look. "You can't trust him Miles, he's leading you into a trap. He's made you ready, made you perfect. Whatever happens you can't go through with his plan, leave anyway, hell jump down through the gap Chris threw you through, but you can not follow his plan."

"Why?"

"It'll only lead you to your death."

"No offence," Miles bit out as he glared at her, before shifting in his restraints. "This doesn't exactly make me feel safe," he hissed, gesturing to the restraints that held him in place.

She looked at him for a moment.

"Though it's true I kidnapped you, please know that it was for your own good."

"I'm getting the fuck out of here, Musician!" Miles yelled at her, almost screamed. "You can't keep me here, I'm done! Do you hear me?!"

She was silent for a moment.

"Very well," she whispered before undoing his restraints.

Miles rubbed feeling back into his wrists before he grabbed his camera and sprinted away towards the exit.

"Miles!"

He didn't know why he stopped but he did. He stopped and turned to look at her.

She bit her lip and looked away for a moment. "Please," Musician whispered. "Please remember what I said… you can't trust him. You can't trust Martin. He serves only the Walrider."

Miles shook his head, "I'm done. I'm leaving this hell hole."

Musician watched him leave, she hoped he wouldn't listen to Martin, she hoped he'd find another way out.

She herself would have to leave soon for the big finale. The finale curtain.

Musician wandered the halls, she could vaguely make out the sound of people humming or singing quietly in prayer as she walked to the chapel.

Of course when she got there she wasn't surprised to see the Twins, but she was more surprised to see Father Martin strung up, no, nailed to the damn cross with a pile of wood at his feet.

Her eyes widened. Oh dear god… what the hell was he planning to do?

"Why are you here?"

"She is not welcome."

"Indeed brother."

"Answer Musician."

Musician blinked and looked at the twins who were blocking her path. "Can't a girl watch the human pyre?" she raised a brow. "What in gods name is he planning?"

"Death and resurrection."

"You have to be kidding me."

The blinked at her, staring not at her but through her and she shuddered.

"You're not joking."

"Now is not the time for jokes."

"Do you think she knows the apostle's fate?"

"Unlikely."

"He does not know his fate either."

"Only the Walrider does."

"And us."

"And us."

"If you hurt him-."

"You care for him?" The twins smirked at her and she backed up slightly.

"Maybe love him?"

"Unsurprising."

"Predictable."

"Weak."

She'd had enough.

"I do not love the apostle! He's just a fucking little reporter who got too much for what he bargained for! He judges us, judges us and he doesn't even know the full story! I'd gut him myself if given the chance."

"You have been given many a chance."

"And taken none."

"It is amusing."

"Very."

"Are you two done?" she snarled. "I hate that little piece of garbage. He can die in that pyre for all I care," she shouted, pointing at Father Martin. "But that's not the plan is it? I don't even think you two will kill him will you? Of course not no, that's not it," she grinned twistedly at them before leaning into their personal space. The brothers hardly seemed fazed. "I know your plan… I know your little… secret!"

At the sound of foot steps she turned to find Miles standing at the door way, he looked spooked by the candles and prayer music. His camera still amazingly filming and working.

Musician chuckled. "I won't speak a word," she whispered to the brothers before turning and walking towards Miles who studied her, trying to gage how mad she was, but she kept a calm face.

"You're time is running out, Apostle," she giggled. "Death will not come to you here. You'll get something much worse."

He looked confused, but shrugged it off as more insane mutterings, walking towards the the centre of the room.

Musician didn't pay attention to anything Father Martin said, it was all lies anyway, it was all a trick. A great big show.

She watched Miles leave, wander over to a nearby vent of which he was about to crawl into but he stopped and looked at her.

Musician only grinned and waved her fingers at him, Miles rolled his and climbed into the air vents.

She didn't see him for a long time after that, she only found him again at the end, when all of Murkoff seemed to be dead or dying and Waylon, her one friend in this hell hole got out and there he was. Miles.

Or whatever was left of him.

He sat on the steps, staring at the dusty trail his jeep had left, the nannites swarming around his head and body.

Musician couldn't help herself she laughed, even if it did get her killed by the Walrider she laughed in hysterics.

Miles turned to look at her, there was a deep look of sorrow and regret in his eyes but Musician did not care.

"I told you. A fate worse then death," she walked down the steps and stood before him. "You hated us so much…" kneeling down so she was in his face. "And now…? Now you can be one of us."

Miles was silent as she turned and walked away from him up the steps, heading back into the Asylum.

He sighed and as he did, black smoke came out of his mouth, it was only the nanites in truth but it still looked creepy. He fished around in his pockets and pulled out the slightly legible, blood stained note book he'd carried around with him through his travels in the asylum.

Miles opened the little book, flipping through the slightly blood soaked pages, his own blood and so many others all mingled together on one page and then he found it, his last note.

 _Billy is dead. The swarm, the Walrider, whatever it was died with him. Whether I escape or die here, I am free._

Miles sighed at his old selfs optimism. Optimism or stupidity or even ignorance, he wasn't sure which. But it was a lie.

 _Whether I escape or die here, I am free._

He looked down at his hands, at the nano machines, at the Walrider and his shoulders slumped.

 _I am free._

THE END.


	7. Chapter 7

The Soldier.

* * *

Chris Walker patrolled the halls, always looking, always watching, trying to find the apostle. He was sneaky and slippery, most of the time he would escape him by sneaking into small gaps or climbing into the air vents, both places Chris couldn't fit into, not in a million years.

Trebel sometimes helped him, she was only a child, Chris didn't blame her, she probably didn't understand that the apostle was bad, believing the lies that Martin was whispering around the asylum.

Chris found himself in the cell block, searching the cells, trying to find the apostle, he had been here, he could smell him, he knew.

"It's him."

"The soldier."

"Patrolling the halls as always."

"Predictable."

"Repetitive."

"Boring."

Chris stopped and looked up at an overhanging ledge to see the twins staring down at him. He couldn't reach them from where he was and he had no idea how to get up there just yet.

He didn't know why but the twins always creeped him out, even now, there was just something about them, like they knew more then they were letting on and how they spoke. It was always irritating when one would finish of the sentence of the other.

"The apostle isn't here."

"You need to march on."

"Like a good tin soldier."

He glared at them, breathing heavily through whatever was left of his nose. The smell of copper was all he could smell right now and he was seeing red as he glared at the twins.

They were lack's of Martin. They needed to be dealt with, but he would have to be careful. They were smart, no denying that, they came close to catching the apostle quite a few times themselves, but Chris doubted they would kill him, they were simply adding to the horror, adding to the insane concoction that made up a suitible host for the Walrider.

"Have to contain it," Chris growled out as he glared at them. "Follow protocol. Too dangerous. Protect surrounding villages and areas."

"Where do you think he is now?"

"Would I like to know?"

"We already do."

"True."

They stared back down at him, blinking like owls.

He should move on. He'd get them later, right now the apostle was more important then these two, Chris just hoped that once he found them again they'd finally be wearing clothes.

"Do you think he knows his fate?"

"By the end of this night he will know peace."

"But will it be how he would want it?"

"Only time will tell."

"Enternal rest is his gift at the end of this."

"A never ending sleep."

"Death of a soldier."

Chris kept walking. They were probably only trying to creep him out, it's what they always tried to do. They managed to creep out the apostle, but he supposed after having them talk about taking his tongue and liver he would be creeped out. Granted Chris was trying to take his head, but that was only so the Walrider couldn't inhabit his body.

"Though I walk in the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil."

"Fitting."

"Indeed."

Chris stopped and looked back at them, but they were no where to be seen, gone like always without another word.

He sniffed and shook his head. Their words meant nothing, just insane mumblings, nothing more. He had to continue on his mission, find the apostle and kill him. His proudest kill in his collection that was for sure.

He rounded a bend and his face twisted into a grotesque smile as he came face to face with the very apostle he was looking for.

The man let our a shriek before spinning and sprinting down the corridor as fast as he could.

"Little pig," Chris gurgled out as he began to chase after him. "No more escape."

THE END.


	8. Chapter 8

Nobody likes a quitter

* * *

She stared down at his body, at the limp form that had once been full of life, too full of life.

Richard Träger.

She wasn't upset, she didn't really have any feelings towards what had happened, he had it coming though, that was for sure. If Miles, the apostle hadn't killed him, she was sure someone would've gotten lucky by now and managed to do him in. This time it was the apostle.

She tilted her head slightly to the side and knelt down next to his body, studying his broke form as she pushed him over to see his damaged face and ignore the broken and crushed spinal cord.

Emily Blake, or Musician as she was known around the Asylum, stared down at the body. She remembered when she first met him, he'd been nice at first, slightly charming even and intelligent with words, but she always got a bad vibe off him and as the years went by of working along with him, she realised why she had that feeling.

The man was insane and demented, only enjoying inflicting pain on anyone and one of his favourite targets was herself, simply because she would bite back and he liked the challenge of finding something that would shut her up.

But now, seeing him like this, with no cocky remark or sly comment, just a face of pain and terror, she would be lying if it didn't bring a slight smile to her face.

Reaching forward, Emily poked his face.

"Hey," she called out to the body, a grin slipping on her face as she poked him again. "Nobody likes a quitter."

THE END.


End file.
